


To The Death

by DreamersAndThieves



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Suicide, typical Kavinsky things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamersAndThieves/pseuds/DreamersAndThieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles pertaining to Prokopinsky & Rovinsky</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rovinsky

Kavinsky had been after Ronan for the longest time. The fake drivers licenses, the bracelets. It might not be enough. Lynch had to know by now. K’s pack of dogs knew, and they had better not tell a damn soul or they would be dead within minutes of whenever Kavinsky found out. They could gossip amongst themselves but if it made it out of their circle…

They were almost the same person. Lynch and Kavinsky. Dead fathers, useless mothers, dream thieves. Ronan just couldn’t see it yet, being with him. Becoming one of Kavinsky’s pack. Oh, what fun it would be. Lynch just needed to get on board with the drugs since he wasn’t so hot about them. K was dying. He was always dying, even before he first saw Lynch, but this was a different kind of dying. This was a kind he couldn’t even explain.

Next time Ronan would refuse him, he would have to threaten him. Like he does with his pack of dogs whenever they don’t do something he wants. He never had a problem with Proko, it was just the others. Proko worshiped the ground he walked on, maybe Kavinsky should make dream creatures of the others, too. So they wouldn’t disobey like they occasionally did. Once, he almost killed one of his dogs by making them overdose. It was such fun to see all the others worry and yell at him. They really thought he gave a fuck about them, they were wrong. He only cares about Lynch.

* * *

 

                The next time Ronan and Kavinsky were together, they were lying on the hood of K’s white Mitsubishi. It was getting dark but K still had his white framed sunglasses on and was already as high as the clouds. They had run out of those magical dream pills and had items littered about on and around the hood. Ronan was lying there right beside him. One hand was behind his head, cushioning it from the cool metal as he looked up at the darkening sky. Stars were just now starting to appear and dot the sky, little spots of light so, so far away. But Kavinsky’s star was right there beside him. As always, K lived in the darkness just on the edge. Just outside of Ronan’s starlight. He asked once again,  _Ronan will you join me? Being around me isn’t that bad. You know you like it, princess._ But the answer was no. The answer is always  _fuck no_ with Lynch. And this time he wouldn’t take it. Kavinsky gets off the hood of his car and goes around to open the driver’s side door to grab one of his most favored dream objects. That shiny, silver handgun.

                He looks over at Ronan, the one who wouldn’t ever accept him. He had made his dogs and everyone else accept him but Lynch never would. Ronan hadn’t even sat up, he would never care and he would never have the chance now.

                K raised the gun to his temple, took a deep breath and finally… eternal sleep came.

                Ronan was startled by the noise, although not surprised. He sat bolt upright on the hood and turned, not making any noise when he spots Kavinsky’s body. But his heart drops. Everything was going to be too bright now. Kavinsky was his darkness. Ronan was his light and denied K what he needed to survive. K was pushed into more darkness where he couldn’t live. Darkness needed light to survive. None of them was going to make it far without the other. There was only so much time now until Ronan was gone too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rovinsky

Ronan was walking out of Monmouth Manufacturing to his black BMW when he spots the white Mitsubishi. He was just going out to get some damn food since no one else had gotten any in the past few days. It was an odd sight to see, since when did Kavinsky ever come to them? He always made them and his dogs go to him. Kavinsky was sitting in the driver’s seat with his arms draped over the steering wheel and his head bowed. He probably didn’t see Ronan approach, he definitely didn’t hear with the music blaring in his ears. It was loud enough to vibrate the small cement pebbles on the ground of the worn and weedy parking lot.

Kavinsky doesn’t move when Ronan opens the passenger side door and slides in. He stays quiet when Lynch turns the music off. It’s too quiet now and Lynch can probably hear the quiet sobs and ragged breaths. Kavinsky has his white framed sunglasses on, hiding the red puffiness of his eyes. But nothing hides the tear tracks going down his cheeks. Ronan doesn’t ask. Why would he?

"The fuck are you doing in my car, princess?" Kavinsky asks, trying to inject venom into his words to make them intimidating as they always were. But he only sounds broken. He sounds like a small child who needs comfort to know everything is alright. Ronan, again, stays quiet but reaches over to slide the white frames off Kavinsky’s face. Ronan’s blue eyes don’t leave K’s as he wipes a fresh tear from his cheek.  _Who knew Lynch could be so sweet?_

Finally, Ronan speaks. “What’s wrong?” It has little emotion behind it. Kavinsky doesn’t blame him.  _Everything’s wrong. I can’t feel anything anymore. Nothing works, only Proko cares and I made him that way. I want you to care._  What actually happens to come out of his mouth is monotone. The least amount of emotion anyone has ever heard in a voice, especially Kavinsky’s. Whose voice usually held enough venom to kill more than a few grown men.

"I want to die."

"We’re all dying already, Kavinsky. We’re dying all the time from the moment we enter this world." Ronan replies in his monotone voice. It didn’t sound like he was interested, but his blue eyes told a different story. It was like Ronan was looking into K’s own soul. It wasn’t difficult now, anyway. All the walls and barriers Kavinsky spent building had crumbled already. He was like an open book.

"That was deep as fuck, man." K replies then lets out a little breathless laugh. "Now it’s my turn."

"Your turn for what, Kavinsky?" Ronan asks then rolls his eyes before letting a small ghost of a smile grace his face. K sees it though and his world has already brightened. The storm inside him was beginning to subside.

K had forgot what he meant by now. He was staring at Ronan; his eyes, his lips, the little bit of black ink peeking out over the top of his shirts collar. He could practically feel Ronan starting to shut down and shy away. Attention came rarely to both of them and they both didn’t like it. Ronan frowns when he hears K whisper something shockingly close to the words  _"kiss me",_ then blinks in surprise when Kavinsky’s lips crash against his own. They stay locked together like that for a long time. Or what seems like a long time to Ronan. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, more surprising that it was coming from Kavinsky. And Ronan took a few moments, but he did kiss back. With more fervor than Kavinsky would ever imagine. Maybe Lynch forgot whose lips were on his.

Slowly, slowly the storm clouds parted in Kavinsky’s mind. Formerly muddled thoughts became clearer. And fucking hell, he was kissing Princess Lynch. And he loved it, he hoped Ronan did too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prokopinsky

Proko finds Kavinsky in one of the many guest rooms of the Kavinsky mansion late that night after having hosted a particularly loud party. Kavinsky had disappeared halfway through his own party and no one had seen him seen him since. Proko was the only one looking, though, no one else missed him. Skov and Swan were too busy making out in a dark corner to care and Jiang was too busy trying not to socialize. Everything was starting to die down around midnight and that was around the time Proko found Kavinsky. He was lying on the pristine bed staring up at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world, but K was also muttering to himself. Something he didn’t do often. But the explanation was lying in faint powdery white lines on the dresser or any other flat surface in the room.

Proko shuts the door and sighs quietly as he walks over to the side of the bed, wondering if Kavinsky was going to act like the last time he was found like this. _Lots of screaming, messed up mental states (more so than usual) and unfortunately, tears._ The noise of Proko’s shuffling footsteps alerts Kavinsky and he turns onto his side, facing away from whichever intruder it may be. “Fuck off, I don’t feel like talking right now,” K snaps then closes his eyes.

“I only wanted to check and make sure you weren’t dead.” Proko mumbles then rolls his eyes, so much for being comforting. Not like Kavinsky would accept it even on a good day, but Proko always had to try. Kavinsky goes rigid when he hears Proko’s voice. Then all hell breaks loose.

* * *

_Kavinsky remembers that day a few years ago. It was the one day he will remember forever that was clear. K hadn’t started doing drugs back then, at least not as heavily as he does now. Him and Proko had driven out to the edge of the river to have some sort of shitty picnic. It was a nice sort of date, they talked and Proko drank even though Kavinsky didn’t want him to. Proko had a big problem with drinking and the last few times Kavinsky had found Proko passed out on the floor in his room or just outside the house in the driveway._

_After their dinner picnic, Proko insisted on driving again because he had a surprise for K. Proko kept telling Kavinsky that he loved him. He stole glances over at Kavinsky and smiled every time. K never knew how much Proko loved him and he would never know what the surprise was either. Because Proko stole another glance over at Kavinsky, but this one was too long and he had swerved just enough into the other lane. With the sickening sound of metal scraping on metal, screeching tires and airbags exploding into their faces, Proko lost his life. Kavinsky laid there in the wreckage until the flashing blue and red lights came, holding onto Proko’s still warm hand until he was pulled away._

* * *

 

Kavinsky’s eyes open and he looks over his shoulder at Proko for just a moment before shaking his head, he covers his ears with his hands and lets out a pitiful wail. “You aren’t real. I know you aren’t here and I’ve already said that I’m sorry! I’m sorry every day! I should’ve drove home, I fucking swear I’ll never do it again. I’ll keep you safe this time!”

Proko frowns then goes to kneel beside the bed in front of Kavinsky’s face. “Hey, I’m here. I’m really here.”  
                “No, you’re not man. You’re not fucking here because you died. I got you killed and then I pulled you out of my dreams! Your parents were so fucking mad and everyone hated me because I killed you so I made a new you.” Kavinsky sobs then shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly so he didn’t have to look at the nightmare he had created for himself. Kavinsky knew he couldn’t do it without Prokopenko and that’s why he created a new him after he had died. Proko was the only one who really knew him, the only one who had ever really  _loved_  him.

The next thing Kavinsky feels is Proko climbing onto the bed behind him, he still has his hands over his ears and his eyes closed tightly. But Proko’s gentle hands grab Kavinsky’s wrists and pull them down. He is whispering quietly, but K doesn’t know what exactly the words are. A few moments later he is being pulled back against Proko’s chest and he just doesn’t care anymore. Proko’s arms wrap around Kavinsky and he keeps talking. “It’s okay now. I’m here and that’s all that matters.”

Proko then keeps talking, his hands tracing patterns along Kavinsky’s pale skin. That act alone calms Kavinsky’s mind enough to quiet down. The sobs and quiet pained noises, echoes of the day Proko died, slowly fade into silence. The nightmare of that car crash fades into daydreams of Proko holding him and whispering sweet nothings in his ear like old times. Right before Kavinsky fell asleep, Proko’s hand found his own and he whispered in his ear so softly,  _I love you_.

Neither of them let go the whole night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just Ronan

Ronan was thinking about too many things, it’s not like he hadn’t before. But this time it was too much.  Gansey never had time for him in his  _great quest for Glendower_ , Adam had too many jobs and homework to worry about (Ronan never wanted to get in the way) and Noah was always hanging around everyone but him. And there was no option of going to talk to Blue, she fucking hated him. She was always going on and on about  _“Oh, you’re so rich and have everything you want. You have no feelings, you only care about yourself. Why are you so rude?”_

Of course he had Chainsaw, but she couldn’t actually talk to him. So he was left alone to his own thoughts. The own poison of his mind. Those poisonous thoughts were beginning to spread down from his brain into his spine. They sent those horrible impulses throughout his whole body which then seeped into his blood. The poison circulated quickly, but it’s not like he cared. Maybe the poison was a real thing too, he was holding a bottle of liquor in his hand. The feeling was like a reverse rainbow, with every single pump of that muscle in his chest he felt the colors of the world fading. Black and white spread like a plague through his body and he had never noticed how many shades of black, white and grey there were. It was almost as beautiful as the rainbow. Almost, because colors were happy and greyscale was so goddamn depressing.  _Maybe this is how others see the world,_ Ronan thought to himself as he ran his thumb over Chainsaw’s glassy black feathers.  _Maybe this is what Kavinsky felt when he was consumed by the flames. He could’ve been living in this world of black and white. This horrible world where nothing existed anymore. Nothing existed, things just happened._ Ronan would not be one of those things. Not anymore. If he wouldn’t live, then he would end this. He would end the happenings and he would live somewhere else.

* * *

 

                Gansey woke to Chainsaw screeching so loud. It was louder than he had ever heard her, louder than any noise of the morning should be. He got up, slipped his feet into the slippers beside his bed (Monmouth’s floors were too cold in the wintertime) and walked to Ronan’s room. “Hey, Ro, would you tell your raven to be quiet? I’m trying to sleep.” No answer, just more screeching. Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open.

                Noah was standing there covering his nose and mouth, he looked at Gansey for just a moment before staring back at what he was looking at before the door opened. Ronan was lying crookedly on the floor, his eyes were closed and pools of blood surrounded his body. They originated from his wrists, Gansey noticed. Gansey didn’t feel himself moving, but the next thing he knew, he was on the floor kneeling by Ronan’s body checking for any sign of life. His friend couldn’t be dead, he was so alive. He was so alive just last night when they were searching around in Cabeswater. Blood stained Gansey’s plaid pajama pants and then he noticed another thing about Ronan, his lips were quirked ever so slightly to form a saddened little ghost of a smile. Maybe he died happy. But Gansey didn’t want his friend dead.

                Noah urged Gansey to call Adam.

                He did.

                Adam was devastated.

                The world started losing color for all of them after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prokopinsky

Tires squeal and moments later there is a crunch and tearing of metal. The noise by itself was the worst Kavinsky could think of, but with time, it became white noise just like the rest of his life. No one hears their own heartbeat unless you start thinking about it.

Kavinsky lay on the hood of his white Evo with blood running from his nose and his body numb. He’d been dreaming too much and those fucking pills were starting to take a toll. He still hadn’t gotten the ratios right just yet, too much of this, too little of that. Problems of a sociopathic teenage drug dealer. The hot summer day was just now turning to a cool night. He could feel it in his bones that something would change soon, he could feel so much and so little at the same time. It was the perfect night for one of his infamous substance parties.

The Mitsubishi rocked and tilted to the right as Proko clambers up onto the hood beside K with no grace whatsoever. He’s carrying two bottles of vodka and thrusts one against Kavinsky’s chest. “You’re thinking too much, K.”

“I don’t think  _enough_ , I can’t ever get fucking the details right,” K snaps then snatches the bottle from Proko’s hand.

“Just calm down, man. You always get things right.”

Proko was right, everyone was always right but him. Proko had downed half the bottle and his blue irises were even more clouded over than before, his signature look. Kavinsky hadn’t even opened the bottle yet and was still just staring up at the sky as he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing the blood to make himself seem more animalistic. Squealing tires and victorious shouts rang through the night. Occasionally there were some panicked shouts, but those died down quickly.

“Do you care about anything other than Lynch?” Proko asks after a few long minutes of silence.

“I don’t give a fuck about Lynch. I care about you idiots.”

Swan chose then to drive up in Skov’s racer-red RX-7 with Skov all red faced to match his car in the passenger seat. Both of them sported serious bed-head, but it was probably just from banging in the back seat. “Aw, Joey actually cares about us.”

At that, Kavinsky sat up straight, having regained at least half of the feeling everywhere in his body. “I told you to not fucking call me that, Swan.”

“You let Proko call you that,” Skov says matter of factly with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s not you,” Kavinsky shoots back with a terrible venom in his voice. He slides off the hood of the Evo and with that, Swan floors the accelerator. Leaving Kavinsky standing in front of the gaping black grille of his car with dust swirling around him. The angel of death against a black backdrop with the pounding bass in the background.

     “And why’re you so moody tonight? On your period, Josephine?” Proko asks and slings an arm around Kavinsky’s bony, and just a bit too skinny shoulders.

     He replies only with a glare that just screams  _danger_  but shoves Proko away from himself with little force. But being the bigger of the two, Proko barely moves and snakes his arms around Kavinsky’s waist, trapping him from behind. Kavinsky doesn’t fight it, he doesn’t want to risk seriously injuring one of the only people he cares about. His body feels like fire, the exact same feeling he gets whenever he steals something from his dreams. “K, tell me why you’re upset.” It was more of a demand than a request, Proko had a way of using his words like that.

     Engines rev and everyone on the fairgrounds can hear a battle cry from Skov as he leans out the passenger side window of the car. The RX-7 shoots off the mark and races toward the pitch black Supra with Jiang in the driver’s seat. Skov disappears into the RX-7 as the two cars careen toward each other, probably yelling at Swan to swerve. Which he does just a millisecond later to narrowly avoid a possible disaster. Jiang woops in victory and proceeds to do donuts in the center of the drag strip.

     A gentle brush of lips on Kavinsky’s skin brings him back to the situation at hand. Proko still had him trapped against his chest, his head was bent, kissing Kavinsky over and over again before letting out a slow breath, sending goose bumps all over. “Will you ever tell me?”

     Kavinsky closes his eyes and shakes his head, “No one understands. No one can ever understand but Ronan fucking Lynch.”

     “Try me, Jo.”

     “I just wish someone else was like me. Anyone but Princess Lynch,” Kavinsky admits then untangles himself from Proko’s grasp. Turning so they were face to face. Proko’s blue eyes were knowing, something that didn’t happen often. Kavinsky often daydreamt about what it would be like to have an actual friend who could steal from their dreams. Someone who would understand and actually like him. Someone who could sit with him for hours and just talk about things Kavinsky never talked to anyone about.

     “Can’t you make someone?”

     “I don’t want another fucking dream out here.  _You’ll_ always be the only one!” Kavinsky shouts, his eyes blazing. The fire had turned into a full on inferno. “I will  _never_ make another dream person. I’d rather try and be friends with Dick than make another one of you.”

     Proko looks down at Kavinsky with the strangest look on his face. It was something between confusion and wonder. Why wouldn’t K make another dream person? He was good, wasn’t he? Maybe one dream person was all Kavinsky needed. Proko was needed. Of course he was, that’s why K made him, that’s why he kept Proko around. Kavinsky loved Proko enough to keep him around.

     “The fuck are you staring at, Alexei?” Kavinsky snaps, holding Proko’s blue eyed stare with vehemence. It always pleased Proko when K used his first name.

     There was no reply, unless a crashing, desperate kiss counted as one. Proko presses his lips to Kavinsky’s in a frantic moment, one that would never come again. The inferno that sprung up around them was short lived. K puts both his hands on Proko’s thinly clad chest and pushes him back at arm’s length.

     “Stop. Go find someone else tonight.”

     “But—“ Proko starts, barely having time to see what happens next. Kavinsky already has his hand in a fist by the time he had started to open his mouth. He pulls back his arm and aims an expert punch to Proko’s jaw, flooring him in one hit.

     “Just fucking listen to me next time. I’m going home, don’t follow me.” Kavinsky says to no one in particular. Proko may or may not have heard. But either way, the other boy would end up in Kavinsky’s bed tonight.


End file.
